of peanut and olive soup
by ARandomFangirler
Summary: [set during CoB] Simon asks Isabelle to do him a favour. Isabelle agrees.


**this is set in city of bones when simon stays with isabelle in the kitchen. i refuse to believe that isabelle wasn't in on him using her for clary's attention the whole time in CoB and thus this was born. please review if you enjoyed!**

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"I should probably tell you that I'm not actually in love with you or anything," Simon began, once he was sure Clary and that stupid golden boy _Jace_ were out of earshot. "Sorry to disappoint."

Isabelle was leaning over her pot of 'soup' and not looking at him. Simon thought that perhaps that was best. She was beautiful - too beautiful, untouchable, unreal, and so Simon wasn't surprised by her slightly aloof manner or pouting mouth. See, Simon had fallen in love with Clary because she didn't know how she looked when she laughed, or sketched a church roof, or just existed. Isabelle looked as if she knew exactly what was happening at any given moment. There was nothing wrong with that, but Simon had always sort of been drawn to heroines who didn't know their power.

"Yeah," she said at last, turning down the heat on the stove and glancing at him over her shoulder. Against the pale unblemished skin of her face, her eyes seemed as dark and burning as bruises. Looking at her made Simon ache, and not in the way that he ached looking at Clary. "I figured. You like the redhead, right? Clary."

Her mouth twisted ever so slightly on Clary's name, but, to her credit, she attempted to conceal what was evident dislike. This seemed a little unfair, in Simon's opinion - Isabelle and Clary scarcely knew each other. And what was up with that Alec guy, Isabelle's brother? Everyone here was such an asshole. Simon sincerely hoped that Clary would leave these Shadow-whatsits as soon as possible.

"Is it that obvious?" Simon asked, and Isabelle shrugged. "She hasn't noticed. I'm hoping that maybe if I-"  
"I get it," Isabelle said. "You're flirting with me so she sits up and gets jealous. I'm doing something similar. Well, it's completely different, but the point is, I'll play along. If you want. It'd help me, too."

Her words were rushed, Simon noticed. He was used to Clary's dreamlike way of speaking, the way she followed thread's of conversation like a spider's web. Isabelle was hiding something, he thought, but it was really none of his business what Isabelle did. He barely knew her. Still - Isabelle was alright. Better than her brother, and far better than Jace, anyway. As if she could read his mind (and maybe she could), Isabelle smiled at him, a smile that Simon suspected left many men breathless.

"There's a price, though," she said liltingly. "You have to try my soup."  
"You just said you were fine with it," Simon protested. "You said that you were doing the same thing!"

She snorted, as if she knew something he didn't.

"I can hook up with any old mundie or Downworlder," Isabelle informed him sweetly. "For you, on the other hand, there's only one me."  
"Why do you want to, though?" Simon challenged her, and Isabelle looked away. "You could probably snag all the half-angel men. You know that you're-"  
"Pretty," Isabelle said flatly. The way she said it was like a dirty word. "Jace is brave and Alec is protective and I'm _pretty_."  
"Well, you are," Simon said, perplexed. "Why are you dating people you look down on if you know you could get anyone you want?

Isabelle sighed. She grabbed a ladle from a cupboard and two bowls, and filled them both with soup. It was obvious she was doing it only to play for time. One of the bowls was placed in front of him, and she sat down opposite.

"Do you have siblings, mundie?" she asked.

"My name's Simon," he corrected. "But yeah. I have an older sister, Rebecca."  
"Then you know what it's like," Isabelle shrugged simply. "You know what it's like to have to protect someone. Let's just say that the more attention there is on me, the easier it is for Alec. If I act out, then nobody-"

Isabelle cut herself off abruptly, and spooned some of the soup into her mouth. Her straight nose wrinkled.

"Huh," she said. "That is disgusting. Try some."

She forced a spoonful into Simon's hand, and Simon attempted not to gag. Holding his breath, he swallowed as much as possible and choked. Words could not describe how terrible the soup was. It was as if someone had juiced the contents of a weeks-old trashbag.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his eyes watering. "No wonder your tutor makes his own food.

"Guess we'll have to order Chinese again," Isabelle declared cheerfully. She seemed to be watching Simon out of the corner of her eye, as if daring him to comment further on the prior conversation. Simon kept his mouth decidedly shut. "C'mon. I'll even let you pick."

Maybe she wasn't so different from Clary after all. Sure, Simon doubted that Isabelle even knew what manga was, but Isabelle was still sixteen. Just a girl. A girl willing to protect her brother.

"Alright," Simon said. "Just no more soup.

"No promises," Isabelle said, and she winked.


End file.
